Found in the Glove Box
by Qalam
Summary: More likely than not, it will be here that I will post all those random fics that pop to mind, and aren't quite long enough to post on their own. Gen. This chapter: Bodie has to save a suddenly consumerist Ray from the grips of his madness. Not as...extreme as it sounds. :)
1. Sunshine

**Hi! So, I seemed to have the caught the bug from ****_Wilsden _****and ****_Sylvie Orp _****of experimenting with a scenario set in the earlier days of the lads' partnership - I picture this to be set about a month or so after they've been teamed together.**

**I don't own.**

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"Bodie! If I have to call you one more time - "

The whitewashed door was finally pulled open, with an almost unintelligible grumble of, "Keep your curls on, Doyle."

Unshaven, pyjama-clad, and hair sleep-mussed, Bodie blinked at him owlishly.

Doyle could've - and _would've_ - throttled him right there, were it not for the fact that they were already late.

Stepping forward, Doyle shoved Bodie none-too-gently towards the bathroom. "You've got a minute, and then I'm going without you," he said firmly, and the expression of confusion on Bodie's face was all-encompassing.

"What's the hurry? It's barely even seven o'clock yet..."

"The briefing, remember? The one that started at half six?"

Dark blue eyes widened in remembrance, and Bodie hastily made for his bedroom, ransacked the wardrobe for clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom.

He was done in forty-five seconds.

They both clattered down the stairs and out of the apartment building with grim purpose, and the car soon zoomed out onto the main road with a squeal of burning rubber.

"It totally slipped my mind!" Bodie groaned in disbelief, grasping onto the seatbelt as Ray broke all known speed and traffic regulations, weaving the gold Capri in between other cars with wild abandon.

"Yeah, and it's not the first time you've been late this month either," Doyle shot back pointedly, swinging the car around a sharp corner, "and I bet that won't slip _Cowley's_ mind."

Expertly bringing the Ford to a halt in the nearest bay, the ex-cop yanked the keys from the ignition, slid out, and locked the car, before both men broke into a run towards HQ.

As they came to a halt in front of the wooden briefing room door, Doyle nodded his head towards the handle, and stared expectantly at the reason for his tardiness.

Bodie gave him a pleading glance, but his partner was unyielding. Eyes half-screwed shut in anticipation, three-seven slowly eased the door open.

However, Cowley did not stop in his lecture, and not one of the agents turned to see who had come in. That was not to say there was no reaction; Bodie felt the keen gaze drill into them both as he and Doyle slipped in and took their seats.

The two men had never paid more attention to a briefing in their entire lives, but that did not change the fact that at the end of the meeting, there was a crisp demand of, _"Three-seven, four-five, I would like to speak to you in my office,"_ just as they were leaving.

Bodie tried to meet Ray's eyes in silent apology, but the curly-haired man stoically avoided his gaze as they made their way to the office.

The door clicked shut behind them, and then every agent within earshot winced in sympathy at the sound of the lecture delivered in a rapidly thickening burr.

Bodie _did_ try to interject the fact that it had been his fault, but the basilisk-like glare that was turned upon him the instant he opened his mouth caused him to close it once more, with the distinct feeling that it would only exacerbate the situation.

The ex-cop was quietly sullen throughout the whole thing, and Cowley noticed. Subsequently, when he has finished giving them a piece of his mind, he snapped, "Is there a problem, four-five?"

Doyle pushed back his shoulders. "No sir," he said clearly, and the controller nodded.

"Well then, off with you both," he responded gruffly, before sitting down behind his desk and proceeding to ignore them completely.

Bodie wavered between Cowley and the curly-haired one, who was already halfway out of the office, then made a decision and spun around to go after his still new-ish partner.

"Doyle!" He yelled down the corridor after the retreating figure, uncaring of the strange glances he received from others going about their business.

To the ex-merc's surprise, Ray turned and surveyed him in a rather neutral manner, no vestige of his usually fiery temper visible.

"What?" He said finally. "Haven't we got a stakeout to get to?"

Bodie hurried to fall into step beside his partner as he turns towards the car park once more, and glanced at the inscrutable expression on the other man's face.

"You're not mad?" He questioned warily, and pulled back a little as Doyle whipped around.

"Since when does it make a difference to you?" He snapped, and then threw his arms into the air barely a second later. "It doesn't matter," He added curtly, lengthening his stride.

Then there was silence as they stepped out into the dreary autumn morning, but for the crunch of loose stones beneath their shoes, and the distant rumble of passing traffic.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Bodie's confusion was palpable as he stopped to stare at Ray over the roof of the car, and the latter paused in pulling open the driver's door with a much put-upon expression.

"He would've had your head if he knew you'd been late again," his partner stated matter-of-factly, before disappearing into the car, and leaving Bodie staring at the spot he had occupied.

The impatient beep of the horn jolted him from his reverie, and the ex-merc started, climbing hastily into the Capri.

Bodie cleared his throat nervously as Ray pulled out from the car park, the indicator ticking as he waited for a gap in the traffic passing on the main road.

Ray spared him a fleetingly curious look before returning his attention to the road. "What?"

"Just wanted to..." Bodie ducked his head a little, staring at the glove box, "...say thanks."

Doyle made a non-commital sound in response, gunning the engine and pulling out of the junction.

"You can thank me by taking the night shift on this stakeout."

The tone was deadpan, and Bodie glanced up to try and gauge its sincerity - and witnessed Ray's blinding, sun-bright grin for the first time.

A smirk danced on Bodie's lips as he settled back into the passenger seat comfortably.

"Fine, I will," he replied. After a moment's thought, he added, _"Sunshine," _and totally ignored the other's protests at the nickname - it fitted too well.

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**Leave your thoughts in a review please! =)**

**~ Qalam**


	2. The Letterhead

**New chapter! =)**

**I don't own.**

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Subjecting the letterhead to a chilling glare, Cowley throws his hands up in the air in frustration.

"Of all the incompetent, stupid - " he cuts himself off abruptly, "Doyle! Bodie!"

For once, the two agents burst into the office with a display of enthusiasm, crowding around the desk.

"Have we got a case?" Bodie's eyes are hopefully wide, as are his partner's, and for a moment Cowley feels like he is dealing with a pair of particularly unruly puppies, rather than two trained and dangerous CI5 agents.

"I know it has been rather quiet lately three-seven, four-five, but I would rather you didn't burst in here like a couple of common yobs." Cowley watches with well-hidden amusement as the two men straighten up from where they are leaning on the desk, and settle into the two chairs somewhat sheepishly.

Incorrigible as ever, Bodie barely waits a heartbeat before he asks again, "So do we have a case? Sir," he adds hastily at the frown that grows on the Scot's face as he remembers the letterhead.

Ray glances sideways at his partner in disbelief - he too had had enough of looking over files in lieu of non-existent field work, but at this rate Bodie'd have Cowley bust a vein before he'd so much as told them their assignment!

Picking up the letterhead that had been the object of his glare, the controller thrusts it in Ray's direction. The curly-haired man takes it after a moment's hesitation, and stares at it, brow furrowed, for several moments. Bodie cranes his head to read it too, looking equally non-plussed.

Eventually, Ray looks up, and half-shrugs his shoulders in confusion.

"These," an emphatic arm wave at the stack of paper, "are supposed to be the official letterheads of CI5, for correspondence and suchlike. I wait four months - four months! - for these to come and - the damn fools!" Cowley is working himself into quite the rage, and Ray glances back down at the sheet of paper, to study it intently this time.

Seemingly, Bodie now notices just what is wrong with this picture, for he is leaning on his right hand in attempt to conceal the fact he is trying valiantly to stifle his laughter. He stabs a finger helpfully at the footer when Ray remains clueless, and green eyes widen in surprise.

It reads:

**George Cow Ley, CIS**_  
Email: mooris .uk  
_  
The look on Ray's face is the last straw, and Bodie loses it, laughter escaping even as he covers his mouth redundantly with his hand. Ray is more successful at concealing his amusement, but only slightly for his notorious twitch has returned in full force, no matter how hard he tries to keep a straight face.

Cowley's face has turned a foreboding shade of puce, and he all but growls, "Och, if you find it so amusing, you can take these and get down to the printing press that did this bodge job, and I'll give the case to two of my _competent_ agents."

Ray straightens up at that - he's had enough of fruitless stakeouts and filing - and pushes back his shoulders, composing himself with a herculean effort, kicking Bodie's ankle as the man completely disintegrates into giggles.

"Sir - " the curly-haired man begins contritely, but Bodie chooses that moment to splutter, _"Mooris!"_ and Ray slouches back in his chair resignedly with a hand over his eyes, even as a wide grin splits his face.

_No prizes for guessing who is going to be stuck doing menial tasks for the foreseeable future_

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**Please review!**

**~ Qalam**


	3. Motorbike

**I don't own.**

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Doyle stares, and then stares some more.

"Bodie, look..." He whispers reverently.

The ex-merc, turning from where he had been eyeing a cake stall across the road, takes one look, and sighs.

"Have you seen the price tag?"

For there, sat in all its gleaming perfection, was the latest Harley-Davidson, just _begging_ to be driven at a reckless-and-then-some speed.

Or at least, so it seems to Ray.

His green eyes never leave the bike, even as his hand moves to hover over the handle to the door of the showroom.

"But just _look_ at her Bodie!"

"I'm afraid that's about all you can afford to do, sunshine," comes the flippant response.

For once, the ex-cop doesn't bother to retort, instead moving in a decisive movement into the shop.

Bodie's eyes widen and he hastily slips into the store before the door falls to - _this could only end badly._

By the time he has caught up with the curly-haired ball of energy his friend has become, the latter has already got the keys in hand to take the bike for a test drive.

Half-an-hour later, Ray comes to a rubber-burning halt, and dismounts, yanking off the helmet to reveal a grin so bright that Bodie is taken aback.

Not so taken aback however, that he doesn't react to it.

His reaction is in fact very prompt – grabbing him by his upper arm, he spins Ray around, says something hurriedly to the salesman about 'thinking on it', and pretty much wrestles Ray out onto the street.

"Bodie!" Is the heated exclamation, as the glass door falls to, and Ray attempts in vain to wrest his arm from the solid grip, ignoring the open stares of passer-bys as the ex-merc frogmarches him away. "I _want_ it!"

"Yeah, but do you need it?" Bodie questions sagely, before blinking in surprise – since when is he the sensible one?

"Yes!" Is the immediate retort, and the ex-cop all but whimpers when the bike disappears from sight.

Bodie shoves him none-too-gently into a nearby shop, and steers him with deliberate intent through the maze of aisles, ignoring Ray's questions and complaints alike.

Finally they come to a halt, and green eyes blink in surprise as Bodie announces triumphantly, "There!"

A toy replica of the motorbike sits among hundreds of other toys, and a fair-haired boy leans precariously out of his pram, head twisted around as his mother pushes the pram down the aisle to watch longingly as Bodie takes one down, and scrutinises the packaging.

"It even makes the right sounds – Doyle?" The unoccupied space beside him makes him break off, and he looks up and yells incoherently at the sight of the curly head bobbing towards the exit amongst a sea of the harried adults and demanding children.

He shoves toy back onto the shelf, where it promptly falls off, and makes to dart after the retreating Ray.

But a hand snags his arm, and suddenly he is facing an irate shop assistant.

"You'll have to buy that sir," he is informed matter-of-factly, and the CI5 agent gapes.

"What – "

"I'm afraid it's company policy sir."

Bodie looks from the assistant to the toy bike upon the floor, disbelieving, and then glances up with a start, just in time to see a flash of plaid disappear around the exit.

Yanking out his wallet, he shoves a note ungraciously into the man's hand, grabs the toy and sprints across the store, hurdling a trolley in his path.

Dashing down the street madly towards the showroom, he bursts back in.

"You have decided to purchase the bike? I must say sir, I agree with your decision – " The salesman gushes, and Bodie stares around the shop in confusion, noticing the obvious lack of denim and curls.

Stepping back out into the sunshine, he walks slowly down the street, scanning the milling crowds with no little concentration, clutching the toy motorbike in one hand.

The rough shove of a shoulder against his own causes him to glance around – and double take.

Holding an ice-cream cone in one hand, the other casually stuffed in his pocket, Ray regards him with a grin.

"Saw you haring down the street sunshine," he teases, and Bodie scowls.

"You didn't get _me_ a cone," he complains, and Ray shrugs evenly.

"I got it from that new healthy dessert place – didn't think you'd want one."

Bodie recoils from the cone dramatically, and looks at Doyle in a comical mix of disgust and disbelief.

"You can't have a _healthy _ice-cream!" He protests.

Ray shrugs. "Why not?"

Bodie regards him as if he has questioned why the sky could not be green, and exclaims, "It's just _wrong!"_

That said, he pauses briefly, eyeing the flake half-embedded in the ice-cream. "Is that proper chocolate?"

Barely has Ray nodded, that the cone is suddenly bereft of the chocolate flake, which is now situated in Bodie's mouth, complete with a cheeky grin.

When his friend scowls, and raises a hand to no doubt cuff him 'round the head in retaliation, Bodie promptly stuffs the toy bike into the threatening appendage, and watches amusedly as the operative stops, and stares.

"It makes the right sounds," the ex-merc points out helpfully for the second time, talking around the flake with no little skill.

Ray glances at him, brow furrowed. "Why'd you buy it?" He asks bluntly, and tilts his head in curiosity as Bodie ducks his in embarrassment.

"Had to," he explains. "I dropped it trying to get after you before you got yourself into debt for the rest of your life."

"Nah," Doyle shakes his head, "I would never have bought the bike."

Bodie nods, unconvinced. "Whatever you say, golly."

Neither of them mentions the fact that the toy bike gets pride of place on top of Doyle's bookcase.

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**I don't even remember where the idea for this came from, but I hope you enjoyed it regardless. =)**

**Please review!**

**~ Qalam**


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